wonderland
by Mimi-Kiki-Dits
Summary: Life is a puzzle, full to the brim with oddities and misconceptions. When Misty Waterflower falls into wonderland, she is thrust suddenly into a world of insanity, impossibility, and love. Will she conquer the woes of wonderland, or will she tumble down the rabbit–holes of anguish awaiting her at every turn? aaml, daml, paul&dawn. tri–narrative. side pairings to be decided.
1. Chapter 1

Sanity is a distant peace, floating in a realm outside her vision. How long has she been there? people whisper. Who is she, really?

May doesn't think she knows. All she knows is deep, dark red, splattering her consciousness, taking over her world. And everything is red. The beautiful, pure roses – so unlike her – must be painted red as a tribute to the queen of bleeding hearts. May doesn't know where or when she acquired such a title. The only bleeding heart in Wonderland is hers.

She twirls the swirly straw mindlessly; staring into the depths of the dark, bloody wine.

"Drew," she whines, "fetch me a rose, will you?"

The sound of heavy footsteps fills the velvety red throne room, and Drew, rose in hand, kneels at her high–heel clad feet, tousled green hair prominent against the fuchsia background.

"For Beautifly," he drawls, lifting his head ever–so–slightly to shoot her an empathetic glance.

"Yes," May says absentmindedly, snatching the rose from his white–gloved hand, and caressing its petals fondly. "For Beautifly."

And both of them are liars, because she really does care, and the roses were never for Beautifly.

"I'm late!" the swatch of white fur protruding from the back of her shorts swishes nervously. "Oh; why couldn't I have woken up earlier? I'll be late for the contest, and the queen will be there." She scampers down a neatly paved path, navy hair dancing in the spring breeze, and stops shortly, panting heavily, hands resting on her bent knees for support.

"What to do," a playful voice butts into the girl's breathing, "when you're late, hm?"

The girl narrows her eyes, and seethes, "Shut up, Barry, or I'll make you."

Barry appears, hanging from the tree, face alight with an ear–to–ear grin. "Ooh, Dawn; feisty, I like that."

Dawn rolls her eyes. "Look, I've got business to attend to. Her–highness called me especially to compete in this contest, Y'know? This is important."

Barry says warningly, "I wouldn't go into her rose garden, if I were you. They say she paints her roses with the blood of the hearts she breaks," he disappears, leaving only a dancing smile. "Oh, the hearts she breaks!" he sings nonsensically, white half–moon of teeth spinning in circles.

Chills run down Dawn's spine, and she flees the clearing, running further into the gnarled forest.

The girl's mind travels places she's never been before, and she is thankful for a distraction from her droning sister and the lull of reality.

"Like, would you listen?" an annoyed voice cuts into the girl's daydreams about gurgling brooks.

"Sorry," the girl mutters, rolling her eyes.

Her sister sighs, and says seriously, "Look, if you, like, don't focus, then we're, like, going to go bankrupt."

The girl says she knows, and that she really is sorry, but her mind is elsewhere, in the depths of the vast sea, amongst the coral reefs and the ethereal dapple of sun shining into the waves.

Her sister announces a break, and leaves to dust her face with powder.

Misty rises, dusting off her billowy skirt, and strolls onto the beige beach.

She tucks her hands behind her back demurely – like every young lady should– until she is sure her sister isn't watching. When the glossy blond head of hair disappears, she lets her arms swing freely, and undoes the ribbon holding her fiery red hair in place. She hikes up her skirt and wades into the rolling, glassy sea. A tugging sensation pulls at her – dragging her mind, soul, and body into the depths of the ocean.

As much as she feels she should resist – there must be something, anything, tethering her to the world – she accepts the frothing waves with open arms, and plunges into the frigid water.

A gargantuan wave crashes over her head, sending her spinning and blind, and as she sinks beneath the surface, she thinks solely of her mother's green eyes and red hair.

Her smiling face is the last thing Misty can see before everything fades into dark, taunting shadows.

The nightmares are the worst. She is weak, and powerless within the cage of her dreams, and as her father and mother are tossed around like ragdolls, she can only scream. Her father, as always, smiles – albeit shakily – and reaches out a shivering, bloody hand to May. She clasps his hand, body heaving with sobs, until it goes limp in her grasp.

She buries her face in his chest and yells up to the sky – a bloodcurdling scream of rage, fear, and insanity. Then she looks down at her hands, and shrieks. They are covered in dark, oozing blood.

May sits upright in her bed, gasping, covered in a sheen of sweat. She has blood – crimson splashes – splattered across her mind, and although there is none on her hands, she feels the pain and horror as if there were really blood dirtying her palms.

"Drew," she rasps, eyes welling with fat tears. "Drew!"

Drew rushes to her side, and falls to his knees respectfully. "Yes, My Queen?"

May doesn't speak, but collapses on the floor, shaking violently. She looks up when she feels a pair of arms wrapping around her, and is pleasantly surprised when she sees Drew, embracing her.

"May," she says offhandedly. "Don't call me Queen. I'm May. May Maple." She leans into the hug, wrapping her arms around his neck. But the blood blocks her vision, and she digs her nails into his soft shirt to repel the memories. She grabs his shirt when she cannot, and tilts her head up, eyes fluttering shut.

He brushes his lips against hers, and she whines softly, sighing in contentment. He starts to say something, but she opens her hooded eyes, brings a finger to his lips, and whispers, "Don't speak. Make me forget, Drew."

And when she bleeds, later that night, the memories are spirited away without a trace.


	2. Chapter 2

Oh my god. Guys. Seriously. So much positive feedback, I can't believe it. In reply to ready to fly's review: haha, I have lines separating in Microsoft word, but in ff they disappear. Sorry 'bout that. And if you want to feel this story, listen to dance of the knights by Prokofiev.

* * *

Dawn stands at the gates, mouth set and eyes steely. "Okay," she reassures herself. "I can do this."

A guard with chartreuse hair opens the gates, but not before whispering in her ear, "If you have trouble with May, call me. My name is Drew, and I'll help her."

Dawn is about to reply, and turns to face him, only to notice that he is gone. She clutches her basket warily, and trudges further into the red palace.

She enters a ballroom. Gentle, floating music wafts around, and tables stacked with platters of wonderland's delicacies line the outskirts of the room. Guests sway to the desperate violins, elaborate gowns swishing and ornate hair signifying high status. Dawn, earlier that day, decided to wear her shorts and white shirt – making is easy to recognize her. She does not regret that decision as she sees the high–society people murmur, and whispers run through the crowd.

A woman sits on a throne in the back of the room, stacked upon red–carpeted stairs. Her skin is porcelain white, and her lips, in stark contrast, are blood–red. Her hair is twisted into an intricate plait atop her head, and a crown of rubies rests upon her brown tresses, shining glamorously. She smiles mysteriously, and says, "Welcome, White Rabbit. You have accepted my invitation to participate in the contest, I presume?"

Dawn bows respectfully. "Yes, My Queen."

Ripples of excitement run through the crowd. The famous White Rabbit, participating in the Queen's contest at last. Rumors of a girl – a rabbit creature – circulated wonderland for ages, and now she's finally here, challenging the Queen.

"Wonderful," May smiles again. "Now, let's resume the party, shall we?"

The guests begin to dance again, twirling to a twisted waltz, steps light.

A wailing crescendo fills the air, and Dawn is reminded that she does indeed have to dance. She slips into the jostling crowd, and searches for a suitable partner.

She looks, and sees a man leaning on a wall by his lonesome. Curious, she slides next to him, and asks, "Why are you alone?"

He turns to her, and she sucks in a breath. He has purple hair – not strange for wonderland, but it seems to not be dyed, which was quite rare around these parts – but that's not what captivates her. It's his eyes – not the typical bright wonderland colors, blue, green, orange, brown, but a captivating shade of onyx grey, swirling with touches of lilac.

"Why?" he replies, voice gravelly and deep. "Because I'm always alone. Don't talk to me, troublesome girl."

Dawn almost doesn't take offense – almost – but then she remembers that, as familiar as this man seems, she doesn't know him well enough to let him talk to her like that.

"Hey!" she scolds, brows furrowing. "You can't talk to me like that. Who are you, anyway?"

He raises an eyebrow, before replying, "Paul. Paul Shinji."

Dawn is surprised. She's never heard of Paul Shinji before, and everyone invited to the Queen's balls are personal guests or aristocrats. And she knows all of the aristocrats.

"You wouldn't have heard of me," he says, as if reading her mind. "You're easily read."

Dawn scowls, but looks back to the dance floor, and suggests, "Wanna dance, Paul?"

He seems surprised at that. "Who? You? With me?"

Dawn rolls her eyes. "Yeah. Who else? Me and my invisible friend?"

Paul quips easily, "This is wonderland, Dawn."

Dawn starts to reply before a thought overtakes her original track of mind. "Hey, you know my name? How?"

Paul shoots her something akin to a smile – something that's not quite happy, but not upset either. "I know everything, troublesome. And, if you insist, I'll dance."

Dawn isn't sure whether to beam or punch him, so she does neither and drags him onto the floor. She places her arms on his shoulders, and they sway gently.

Paul says nothing.

* * *

Misty wakes up in a field. She knows she's alive because of the aching sensation coursing through her veins. She feels slightly disappointed.

She rises, and sees that she's wearing a blue dress with a lacy white trim, and a cream apron.

Her hair is tied up in a spiky ponytail – just how she likes it.

She walks until the field gives way to a gravelly path, and she peers around the bends until she sees an enclosure. She runs to the fenced off area, and when she reaches it, she pulls open the gate and pushes her way inside. A long table lined with sweets and teacups occupies the center. A black–haired boy wearing a top-hat occupies the seat at the head of the table.

"Hey!" she yells. "Where am I? Did you take me here?"

The boy looks up, and she sees his eyes – gold, molten chocolate. Then they flash, turning red. He breathes – once, twice, three times – before standing up and sweeping everything off the table. "Get out!" he screeches. "You're not supposed to be here! The Queen forbids outsiders!"  
Misty feels her head swim as she looks at those bloody eyes, and she faints, crumpling in a heap.


	3. Chapter 3

May can't think. Her thoughts are jumbled, an unfair juxtaposition of green and red (because there's no Christmas in wonderland, she thinks) and the colors blurring in front of her – elaborate folds of velvet and silk – aren't helping her think.

A pair colored purple and blue twirl through her mind, and she vaguely recognizes the white rabbit and Paul – why are they together?

As soon as she thinks to question this odd pairing, they're gone, hidden amongst the faceless figures.

Suddenly, the music stops, and the doors are flung open. A figure, wearing a musty green cloak and a tophat, steps in, face shielded by dripping black hair. In his arms is a girl, with hair the color of fire, hanging limply. Her milky arms are askew, and her dress is soaked.

"Please," he rasps. "Can you help her?"

May sits upright. "Hatter! What are you doing here?"

The man takes off his hat, and unveils chocolate brown eyes and a concerned expression. "I saw this girl near me and my mom's house – I was setting out lunch, 'cause you know how mom is – she said something, and then something happened… It's like I blacked out, 'cause I don't remember anything. Next thing I knew, she was crumpled on the meadow. What's wrong with her, and who is she?"

Drew steps in before May can say anything. "Send her to Professor Oak. Ash, stay here – we'll discuss this. Privately. And," he addresses the crowd, "everyone else, leave."

The guests scurry away, fearful of the Queen's wrath if they disobey her pet.

* * *

Dawn squeals as she's pushed into Paul, and squeaks when he grabs her hand and drags her away. He stops when they reach a large and daunting forest, and he shoves her underneath a leafy tree.

"Hey!" she yelps. "What're you…" she stops when she realizes that he has just protected her from the pelting rain.

"Thought you might want to keep dry," he says dully.

Dawn smiles shyly. "Thank you, Paul Shinji. So, who are you? I only know your name."

Paul's eyes rake over her body – an analytical gaze – before he answers cautiously, "What do you want to know?"

Dawn shrugs casually. "Your age. What you like. Why you were at the palace," she adds.

Paul blinks. "Eighteen. Nothing. I live there."

Dawn's eyes flick up as the rain begins pelting harder and harder. "So you must work for the Queen… What's your job at the palace?"

Lightning flashes, illuminating Paul's face in the darkness. His eyes burn into her utter soul, and, like with Barry, a chill of fear and awe runs down her spine. "The executioner of hearts," he spits. "I murder for a living."

Dawn feels her stomach churn, and she screams as loud as she can.

* * *

Misty wakes to two concerned faces hovering above her. Green eyes – unfamiliar to her – simply express curiosity, but another pair of eyes – a beautiful brown – exude concern and guilt. The green eyed–boy leans back, satisfied, but the brown–eyed one leans even more forward. Misty does the same, and their foreheads bump into each other.

The boy's cheeks flush with color, and he leans, back, mumbling, "Sorry 'bout that. And for, um, making you faint, if that was even my fault, because I don't really remember what happened, and I swear I didn't do it on purpose, and…" he trails off, before smiling sheepishly. "I'm babbling, aren't I?"

Misty smiles amusedly, but says nothing.

The emerald–eyed boy comments, "So you're awake, mystery girl."

The brown–eyed boy frowns, and snaps, "We've determined that, Drew. Leave her alone."

Drew raises his green eyebrows. "Okay, okay. I didn't do anything, sheesh."

The brown–eyed boy scowls and crosses his arms, but doesn't reply to this.

Suddenly, a loud, girlish scream erupts from outside.

Ash's head whirls to the door, and he whispers, eyes wide, "Dawn."

Misty speaks softly, "Dawn?"

The brown–eyed boy turns back to her. "Oh! You're talking! Um, I'm Ash, and this is Drew. Dawn is – wait what's your name? Oh, never mind. Dawn is an old friend of mine."

Misty nods. "My name is Misty."

"Awesome," Ash grins. "Anyway, apparently, now Dawn's in trouble. C'mon Drew, Misty, let's go." He pumps his fist in the air. "To Dawn!"


	4. Chapter 4

May has been sent to her room. Her bedsheets are still rumpled from her encounter with Drew, and the cracked lights are flickering dangerously.

She curls into a small ball and tries to tune out the haunting melody of the song in her head.

The castle doors bang closed, and she knows the boys and the girl have left. She is alone, except for scurrying servants.

A loud slamming sound echoes around her room, and she looks up, quivering.

She rises slowly, shaking in her red_red_red shoes, and pushes open the door of her room. She makes her way down the stairs, wobbling on her feet, and when she reaches the entrance room, she opens the door.

A figure soaked in rain stands, dripping on the doorstep. His face is covered by thick glasses, and a feathered tricorn hat.

"May," he mutters. "May. Where is May?" he looks up, revealing glimmering brown eyes. " I need to find my sister, May."

May steps back, shuddering, and whispers, "Max?"

* * *

Dawn sits, curled in a ball on the wet leaves. "Murderer!" she accuses hoarsely.  
"Despicable bastard!"

Paul stiffens, and his arms hang still.

Dawn laughs dryly. "Oh? Nothing to say? So, you really are a cold–blooded bastard, huh? Killer!"

Paul clenches his fists. "Shut up."

Dawn continues, oblivious to his anger. "How do you even live with yourself, knowing that there are families missing members because of you?"

Paul shoves her roughly against a tree, holding her by her skinny wrists. "Now you listen," he growls ferociously. "This has nothing to do with you. I have my goddamn reasons, and they're none of your business."

Dawn scowls. "It's absolutely my business! Y'know why they call me the White Rabbit? 'Cause I catch criminals like you."

The purple–haired boy's eyes flash. "You can insult me," he hisses, "and you can call me a killer. But don't you _dare_ compare me to filthy scum. I would never – ever – be like that. They're the ones that fucking murdered my brother, and I don't _ever_ want you to fucking call me that ever again."

Dawn quivers, sapphire eyes alight with fear, and when Paul releases her, she crumples to the ground, trembling. Tears hit the packed earth, leaving pricks of wetness on the brown dirt.

Paul's expression softens, and he crouches down next to her. "I didn't mean to be so angry," he admits gruffly. "I – I'll take you home, if you want, but I'd guess you wouldn't exactly want to be taken home by a killer."

Dawn grips the tree trunk and rises shakily to her feet. She exhales deeply. "I didn't mean to call you a, um, criminal," she bites her lip. "I'm – I'm sorry," she eyes him from under her thick blue lashes.

Paul shoots her a quirky half–smile – something Dawn guesses is the closest thing to a smile he's capable of – and asks, "Where do you live?"

Dawn points further into the forest, and says breathily, "In there. And, if you're lucky, you'll meet my next door neighbor, Barry."

He isn't sure, but Paul gets the feeling she's being sarcastic.

* * *

Misty treads through the forest, hair plastered to her cheeks, beside Ash. He's holding her hand, something she would typically blush at, but she's too tired and hungry. They've been walking for hours, and they still haven't caught even a trace of this girl named Dawn.

Drew shouts from ahead, "I found something!"

Ash drags Misty over to him, and asks, "What?"

Drew squats, and points to a pile of leaves. "This has been sat on recently," he explains. "And this – this tree – is scraped, like someone's been pushed against it. And there's a trail of leaves leading deeper into the forest."

Misty pulls on Ash's shirt, glancing at him meaningfully.

"Misty wants to go back," Ash announces loudly. "Dawn seems alright, if she's walking, so maybe we should return." He yawns, stretching. "I could use some grub, eh, Myst?"

Misty grins at the nickname and nods empathetically.

Drew sighs, and flicks his hair – not vainly, as if he were trying to impress her, but out of habit – before giving in. "Alright. Besides," he bites his lip, "I wanna get back to May."

Ash smiles lopsidedly before commenting in a gaudy soliloquy, "And it seems that Drew still wants to get into May's panties."

Misty's cheeks flush red, and she covers her mouth with a hand to suppress uproarious laughter.

Drew also turns scarlet, and leads them back in silence, silently fuming over Ash's bold exclamation.

Ash grins satisfiedly the whole way back, and Misty thinks to herself with a small smile, _I think I like it here_.


End file.
